Being Gay

Being gay is a nightmare, Yet not for what it's worth, But for the social wear and tear, Of not fitting in on Earth. Does my taste for men inflict upon you, A pain so great with which you cannot stand? Does my choice for which orifice I go through, Neccessitate legal and righteous bans? Love is but a shadow, That fills with what might is missing: Obsidian sands of another's soul, That blend with light while kissing. Is it right for us who are named demons and pariahs, To live under the pallor of an unlit umbra, And forever feel trapped in Sitri's grasp on gaia, Who holds firm grip upon those souls he has encumbered? I think not, for I am a flame that flickers in the darkest of black nights, Whence no candle nor lantern is 'round I'm found within the whitest light. Say what you will with your silver pious tongues, But you who demonize the denizens are the abominations, For any being who wishes to see another hung, For love can be found in Hell's Grand Central Station.